


Cigarettes

by artisturtle



Series: Her Midnights, Her Mornings [4]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angsty Undertones, F/F, Lena-centric, Soft and Fluffy, Supercorp Ficnette #4, Supercorp and Stargazing, late-night conversation, midnight kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 01:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30081585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artisturtle/pseuds/artisturtle
Summary: Even if Lena doesn't believe in a God, she prays.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Series: Her Midnights, Her Mornings [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2207067
Comments: 4
Kudos: 73





	Cigarettes

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Here's a new SuperCorp ficnette (still a ficnette because it's less than 2000 words?...idk, really). But hey, enjoy this, okay? it's pretty fluffy and domestic and stuff like that. There's no polite smut though. Anyway, stay here for the heck of it, I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Also, not beta-ed and grammar check is just basic, hopefully there are not a lot of grammar errors in here to kill off your buzz. Again, for the last goddamn time I repeat myself, enjoy this one and let me know at the comments section what you think of it.

Under the half-light of the half-moon, her cigarette glows like a dying star -- red like devilry and smoky like sin. The city below her penthouse balcony is darkening, and one by one the buildings drift off to darkness. It’s a telltale sign that most of the buildings have already turned in for the night.

She, however, could not find it in her to sleep.

**Not when she isn’t home, yet.**

So she had decided to break open one of her favorite bottles from her liquor cabinet and she lights one of those tasty mint-flavored sticks that one of her recent business partners had given her as a token of good faith and partnership.

She doesn’t smoke that much. She only used to smoke back in her college days, but she had long since broken the habit. Mostly, she just now smokes to let her mind drift away such as on nights like these. She reasons out that she can’t have both a bad lung from all the smoking and a bad liver with all the drinking -- one of them had to go.

She had decided that the cigarette had to go and the alcohol gets to stay.

A soft breeze tickles at the tips of her ear and she knows of **her arrival** ** _._ ** She hears the soft crunch of a boot stepping on the concrete and she instantly closes her eyes when she feels a warm hand snaking around her waist.

“Sorry to keep you waiting for long, love. The mission took longer than expected and Alex got wounded so we had to get her to the hospital before I could get home,” a voice whispers in her ear and she stays rooted to her feet a little while longer, basking in the warm breath that carries the scent of her favorite peppermint toothpaste.

“Lena,” the voice whispers again, her voice soothing and mellow -- richer than whiskey, sweeter than aged wine, warmer than cigarette smoke. “Forgive me for keeping you up so late. It’s time we head to bed.”

This time, she decides to let go of the stick by putting it into the ashtray sitting on the balcony’s ledge. Its structure is designed for holding cigarettes that wait for their owner’s return; and though she knows she probably wouldn’t finish the cigarette anyway, she just puts it there for good measure.

She turns around to face her lover and as she opens her eyes, she meets eyes as blue as the ocean. 

A small smile plays onto her lips as she swings her arms around a red-caped neck. “Did you ever get him real good, love?” she purrs as she holds her face close to her lover’s jaw, smelling the scent of burnt concrete, sweat, ash, and blood...and something else, something earthy and grave, warm and dependable and **safe**.

Her lover’s chest heaves as she feels herself being carried into the air. “I think did get him good.”

Being lifted off the air is heady and sweet, and it makes her feel a fluttering low in her belly. 

“I bet you did,” she says, her pride hinting in her voice as she pushes a lock of blonde hair behind her lover’s ear. She cradles a firmed jaw in her gentle hands. “Of course you did, you aren’t Supergirl for nothing. They better not forget you’re Earth’s strongest woman.”

Her lover rolls her eyes. “I’ve always wanted to be called Superwoman. I tried to convince Cat to dub me as Superwoman, not Supergirl.”

This time, it’s her turn to roll her eyes. “I bet a Luthor can call you Superwoman.”

A steady stream of laughter falls from rose-colored lips. “I bet all of you Luthors can do whatever you want to do,” her lover says almost sarcastically, but her words lack the bite and her smile is still as endearing as ever. “Is there anything you wanted to do but weren’t able to do?”

“For one,” she holds a slender index finger, her features lighthearted, but her eyes hold a weight that she had always carried. “I’ve always wanted to see a shooting star, but it seems that I always miss or just...didn’t catch it.”

A strange look crawls at her lover’s face -- one that is between surprise and curiosity. She tilts a blonde head to one side and gives her a lopsided smile. “You never did?” she asks, her voice genuinely curious.

The lopsided smile now turns into a full grin, and she feels them rising up and up into the air -- up and up until she could feel the soft wind in her ear and tearing at her face. When she finally feels that they’re on something stable again, she realizes that they’re on the helipad on the roof of her building.

“You brought me to the roof,” she tells her lover as if it’s not an obvious fact. Her voice is high-pitched with surprise.

Her lover just shrugs. “We’ll watch stars tonight,” she says as she unclasps her cape from her back and she lays it on the concrete, making them a makeshift picnic blanket. “Come sit here,” she offers warmly, patting at the blanket.

She gingerly steps on the blanket, pulling her sleeping robes closer to her body. The composite polymer feels slightly scratchy, but the warm legs that straddle both sides of her waist as her lover sits behind her are enough to provide her all the comfort in the world. She leads further backward, resting her back on a warm chest and a heart that resonates with hers.

“Kara, they’re so bright up here,” she murmurs, looking at the twinkling lights above them. 

Kara hums softly, and she feels her lover’s throat bob slightly as she hums in agreement. She feels the warm lips kiss her hair.

“They’re so beautiful, too. Even in the darkness,” her lover whispers into her hair.

They stay quiet, watching as the stars twinkle and dip into the darkness every once in a while. She counts her heartbeat along with Kara’s, like the way she’s always done when the blonde is awake and she is asleep -- she had learned the rhythm of her lover’s heart just like the way she had learned her lover’s breathing pattern or she had learned of the texture of her lover’s veins on the back of her palm. She just knows all of these things because she had committed all of them to her memory.

“Was today a good day at work?” she almost jolts when she hears the voice above her. She’s pretty sure **she was sleeping just mere moments ago** ** _._ ** A slight laugh escapes from her lover’s mouth and she could feel the body she’s leaning on shake gently. 

“Did I scare you?”

She shakes her head. “No...no...you didn’t! I was just startled.”

“You aren’t afraid?” the blonde says teasingly. “I could leave you here out in the cold, you know.”

She groans, lifting her body slightly so she can turn around and her lover could properly see her when she **rolls her eyes at her**. “You wouldn’t do that, you’re too much of a goody-two-shoes to even kill a fly.”

Normally, their banter would come back and forth, flowing like an eager spring, but today, her lover’s blue eyes are just fixed on her as if she’s the only thing that’s relevant in the world and a smile is carved on her elfin, gold-framed face.

“What’s so funny now, doofus?” she mutters, obviously goading her lover on.

“Nothing...” the blonde says, gaze still fixed at her, that doofus smile still plastered on her beautiful face. “I love you, Lena. You know that.”

She wants nothing more but to wipe that stupid and doofus smile off her lover’s face and yet she also wants to pepper her face with a thousand kisses and she has no idea what to do, so instead, she buries herself into her lover’s neck and she lays a gentle kiss at the curves of her collarbones. She wants to tell her she loves her too, but she wants to tell her **everything** ** _._ **

She wants to tell her that every time she leaves with a cape on her back, she always prays for her safety even though she doesn’t believe that there’s a God up there. She prays that every time there’s a crackle on the radio that hacked into NCPD, she’d come home safe and alive, that there’s be no tears in her eyes when she walks through the front door late in the night (or in the open balcony early in the morning) after her nightly patrols.

Later on, even if she doesn’t believe in God, she starts praying for herself as well: that she’d be able to live her days with her and for her; that when Death comes, it comes **first for her** before it comes after her lover because to live without the blonde is to not live at all.

“Of course, I know that,” is all she whispers into her lover’s skin and she chances to look up to the sky before falling into the crook of the blonde’s neck -- and there it is, up far into the western sky: a small streak of light that barely lingered for a minute.

If she had blinked, if she had breathed, she would’ve missed it.

So she closes her eyes and makes a wish, but she locks it away forever so that it stays a secret and it becomes true.

It’s in the early hours of the morning when they finally decide to sleep. The blonde proposes that they shower together -- and though she had wanted so much to touch her like that, their shower is short and polite, just spending half an hour trying to cleanse their body from the grime and the dirt the previous day had brought upon them.

She brushes her blonde hair, disentangling the knots and kneading the roots until it feels soft and bouncy beneath her palm. Her lover ends up reading four more pages of The Fountainhead while waiting for her to finish brushing her own dark locks. When she's done, she crawls to bed and settles next to the blonde.

“It’s time to sleep,” she lays a gentle kiss on her lover’s shoulder as her hands try to pull away from the book the blonde is reading. “Come under the covers, love. And turn the light off,” she softly whispers.

The light clicks off, and the room is plunged into darkness, except for the sliver of moonlight pouring in through the windows. She listens to the droning sound of the AC grinding into the night, and she sighs as she curls to her lover’s side.

“In the morning, please have the maintenance guy look at the AC, it sounds like a decrepit old man coughing his lungs out,” she whispers into the blonde’s hair. She feels the blonde shift, moving through the covers until she finally feels her lover’s head between her breasts.

There, she lingers, her breaths shallow and soft. She knows the blonde is barely awake. She feels a hand squeezing at her own, and so she squeezes back.

“In the morning,” the blonde finally breathes out a sleepy grumble. Not long after, the blonde’s breathing becomes even and shallow, well-paced against the smooth skin of her chest and she starts breathing in tune to her lover’s inhale and exhale.

Her eyes grow heavy, and even if she doesn’t believe in God, she doesn't forget to pray.

**(#)**

**Author's Note:**

> So, you are here. Thank you for getting here, and this means the world to me that you've read this little piece I have made. Anyway, what do you think was Lena's wish? I deliberately skipped out her wish because she didn't tell me what it is. Any guesses? Personally, I think Lena wished for them to grow old together (I'm a sucker for those things!). What about you, what do you think did Lena wish for? Let me know in the comments.
> 
> Also, follow me on Twitter! My handle is @artisturtle and I'm boring as hell.


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